


Unicorn Turds (part 12)

by jennamacaroni



Series: Unicorn Turds [12]
Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-17
Updated: 2015-02-17
Packaged: 2018-03-13 12:14:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3381122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennamacaroni/pseuds/jennamacaroni
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Santana Lopez has been crushing on Brittany Pierce since she was a first year.  But Brittany is the most popular girl in school and a star quidditch player, and Santana is practically invisible…  Harry Potter AU Brittana.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unicorn Turds (part 12)

**Author's Note:**

> happy valentine’s day, unicorns! six days until we all die from the impending brittana nuptials. the previous parts of this story, you can find here. thank you for all the kind words and reviews. it’s been fun picking up this story again and i’ve got about 1290438094823 more feels about them soo…

Every time Brittany’s skin touches Santana, it prickles at point of contact. Not in an uncomfortable pins-and-needles kind of way, but like there’s a humming of electric current coursing just under the surface of her skin. And ever since she looped her arm with Santana’s, her busted elbow inexplicably is pain-free.

Maybe she’s drunker than she thought.

“Do you have a death wish?” Santana asks as they get closer to the back door, her voice low and breath tickling the wisps of hair on Brittany’s neck. The current buzzes faster.

“Hm?”

“How the heck do you manage to fly on a broom with no hands?”

She chuckles. “It’s all about feeling your balance on the handle. It’s really not that-” she catches Santana shaking her head back and forth incredulously. “What?”

“Nothing. I’m just kind of amazed,” she answers, looking away shyly.

“Oh yeah? You should see what else I can do with no hands,” Brittany counters, cocking a single eyebrow. Santana chokes on her water and turns red as a tomato, and Brittany’s stomach is topsy-turvy with crashing waves of butterflies.

She wonders if Santana feels the electricity, too.

_____

They’re leaning against the deck railing talking of summer plans when Brittany’s story about her eccentric grandparents and their Cairo camel farm is interrupted by a large, slightly oafish and out-of-breath boy with dark brown hair who steals away Santana’s attention.

“Finn, what are you-”

“I can’t find Rachel,” he sputters, pulling in a haggard breath. “I’ve looked everywhere for her, and now for you. Where have you been? This house is enormous. I need help,” he begs. “Santana please, you know how she gets with a little too much to drink.”

Santana looks annoyed by the interruption, but shoots Brittany a wordless apology.

“I’ll find you again,” she promises, and Brittany watches her go.

_____

Santana is half way through checking the second floor rooms when she hears sniffling from behind a closed door. “Rach?” she asks, knocking and then jiggling the handle to find it locked. “Rach, are you in there?”

“Go away!” She watery squeak is definitely Rachel, as the din of the bumping bass from downstairs is punctuated by an abnormally loud blowing of a nose. _Yup, definitely Rachel_.

“I’m coming in!” Santana warns, pulling her wand from her pocket and casting a quick ‘ _alohamora_ ’ spell. The lock clicks open and enters the small bathroom, closing the door behind her and sitting on the tiled floor at Rachel’s side.

Rachel’s face is comically stained by dark tracks of mascara and tears, her eyes puffy and red. “I thought we talked about waterproof mascara for this party,” Santana coos, pulling some toilet paper and balling it up for makeshift tissues.

“I know, I forgot,” Rachel mumbles pathetically, blubbering through more tears.

“What is it this time, Berry? Wait, wait, let me guess, they wouldn’t let you sing?”

“They couldn’t even take ONE song break from this insufferable DJ. I even promised to sing a pop song!” she wails, as Santana tries to look sympathetic but fights a smile. ”I know you’re patronizing me but I am a unique talent and the world deserves to know!” Rachel sways dangerously on the spot, very nearly toppling sideways into the toilet. “I’m going to be a star someday, Santana.” Her face is serious as she grabs Santana’s forearm for emphasis, then hiccuping. ”My name up in lights on the West End.”

“I know. Hey Rach?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re ruining my Brittany time. I finally found her and we were together not even five minutes before Finn nearly tackled me worrying about you. So not only are you worrying him to death, and believe me, he was so breathless when he found me I thought he’d keel over right there, but you’re also standing in the way of-”

“True Love.” Rachel swoons. ”You should really watch that muggle teen romance I told you about. Brittany is totally the Pacey to your Joey. Only Brittany’s like, way smarter than he ever was, especially in school. But same cool-as-a-cucumber attitude, extremely personable,” Rachel babbles, pressing her mopped-up face into Santana’s neck.

“The what to my what?” Santana asks, baffled, but Rachel is snoring.

_____

Santana manages to make it back to deck without much further incident and finds Brittany sitting out by the edge of the pool, her feet submerged and two Solo cups by her side. When she notices Santana watching, she beckons her over with a nudge of her head.

“Hey,” Santana greets, taking the place next to Brittany as close as she can get without touching her.

“Hi. I brought you this.” Brittany holds up the spare cup, full and foaming to the brim. When Santana takes it to her lips, it isn’t what she expected.

“Butterbeer!” she exclaims, pleasantly surprised and amused that Brittany would bring her something non-alcoholic at a house party where they’re both well on their way to drunkenness, if not already there.

“I owed you one, remember? Your secret end-of-term bash that was so rudely interrupted.”

Santana studies Brittany’s profile as she looks out across the surface of the water. “I do.” They’re quiet for a few moments, Santana not quite knowing what to say.

“You’re going to be a prefect,” Brittany says, turning towards Santana, her gaze steady as blue meet brown. She smiles. ”You should be getting the confirmation letter in the post in the next week or two. Santana Marie Lopez: fifteen, pureblood, Gryffindor. Top of her class, strong charms skills with a keen interest in the Defense Against the Dark Arts. Most observed in the wild studying at her favorite table in the back corner of the library or pouring over an open book up on the hill above the quidditch pitch.”

“How do you-”

“The Head Girl has to read up on all potential prefect candidates. You were an easy choice for the job. Congratulations.”

_She’s going to be a prefect. And Brittany is Head Girl. They’re going to see each other all the time. And Santana’s parents are going to be so proud. Prefect._

“You don’t seem excited.” Brittany chuckles, knocking their ankles together under the water. “Do you not want to be a prefect? Because although unusual, it isn’t unheard of for someone to decline the job. I wouldn’t hold it against you or anything.”

“No, no, it’s nothing like that,” Santana promises, wringing her hands together subconsciously, a nervous habit. “It’s just a lot to process, on top of everything else.” Are her hands shaking?

“Everything else?”

Santana thinks maybe her favorite thing about Brittany is that any time you’re talking to her, she looks at you like you are the only thing the room. When she’s paying attention to you, it’s always undivided and you sense there is nothing she would rather be doing than being in this moment, sharing this space and moment in time. She’s this way with teachers, teammates, classmates, and even lost first-years at the beginning of term who need help navigating the moving staircases in the castle. And now she’s doing it with Santana.

“You’re going to be a great Head Girl,” she breathes, and it’s Brittany’s turn to blush.

“BRITTANY!” The shout comes from somewhere closer to the house, and a shadow approaches, silhouetted by floodlights and masking the voice’s identity. “There you are,” a tall and handsome strapping boy with sun-kissed shaggy hair and a sharp unshaven jaw-line comes into view, pitching slightly to one side before belching loudly. Brittany tenses up immediately at the boy before scrambling to her feet.

“Johnny-”

“Why won’t you talk to me?” he demands, stepping even closer. “Why won’t you answer any of my calls, any of my texts?” He’s quite obviously intoxicated, the beer from the cup clutched in one of his hands spilling nearly on Brittany’s bare feet. Santana thinks she recognizes this boy from school, a Slytherin six-turned-seventh year this summer.

“There’s nothing else to talk about.” Brittany’s tone is curt and dismissive. A standoff-ish Brittany that Santana has never seen. “Now go back inside and get yourself some water, you smell like a whiskey distillery.”

“I just want another chance,” he slurs, reaching for Brittany’s free hand. “I miss you, Brittany.”

“I’ve given you enough chances. It’s over, Johnny. It’s been over for months.”

“You’re such a bitch, you know that?” he spits, and a flash of white-hot anger propels Santana to her feet. Before she can stop herself or even realize what she’s doing, she steps alongside Brittany and crosses her arms to keep from drawing her wand and hexing the guy.

“I think she wants you to leave her alone,” Santana warns, as calmly as she can manage.

“Who the hell are you? Also, it’s none of your business, so how about you shut the hell up. Come inside, Brittany,” he demands, grabbing her roughly around the wrist and pulling her back towards the house.

“Hey!” Santana yells, whacking him in the arm to free Brittany before pulling her wand out and pointing at him square in the chest. She’s breathing hard but her hand is steady as she stares down the length of the wand, daring him to make another move. It’s Brittany’s gentle hand slinking around her waist as she whispers Santana’s name that keeps her from cursing this idiot into next Sunday. “Just go,” Brittany repeats to him, nodding towards the house. He growls before turning on a heel and storming back towards the house.

“I’m sorry about that. He-”

“It’s okay, Britt, really. I’m sorry for pulling my wand like that, I’m not usually-”

“I know. And he deserved it. Thank you,” she whispers, her free hand grabbing Santana’s elbow, trailing down her forearm until reaching her hand and squeezing. “That’s twice now you’ve come to my rescue.”

This time Santana doesn’t look away at the compliment, electricity sparking between the fingertips of the hand not held in Brittany’s own.


End file.
